


Backseat

by mistyzeo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chevy Impala, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Pre-Series, Sneaking Around, under John's nose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-05
Updated: 2011-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-20 12:59:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a long drive to nowhere, and Dean has Sam snuggled close in the back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backseat

Dean wakes jammed in the corner of the backseat of the car, Sam’s head in his lap, Dad still driving, still humming to himself, still chasing after something in Nebraska. Dean keeps his head against the window and peers over Dad’s shoulder to see the clock in the dash: _1:14 am_. They’re not stopping any time soon, that’s for sure.

Dad has his window cracked for fresh air, but Dean’s corner of the car is warm and quiet, and Sam has a blanket pulled up under his chin. Sam’s on his back, his face turned towards Dean’s belly, one hand resting on his stomach and the other tucked behind Dean’s back. His knees are spread wide, one pressed against the door seam, one in the spot right behind Dad’s back. Dean shifts carefully, trying not to dislodge his brother, and snuggles deeper into the cocoon of his coat. Sam’s head is right against his crotch, warm and heavy, and he rolls his hips up slowly, smiling to himself, pressing the soft bulge of his dick against Sam’s cheek.

Sam stirs, murmuring, and Dean stops. His cock is filling, half-hard in his jeans, just from the heat of Sam’s body and the thought of his mouth, and Dean cards a hand through his long hair to quiet him. He shouldn’t do this, not while Sam’s asleep. There’s fucking your sixteen-year-old brother, and then there’s creepy.

Sam moves again, and Dean watches his eyes blink open in the dark. Sam squints up at him, nuzzles his face against Dean’s stomach, and starts to shift back. He runs right into the hardening line of Dean’s dick, and Dean sees the shadow of his smile. Sam turns his cheek against the bulge and rubs against it, and Dean rocks his hips helplessly, pressing against Sam’s scalp with his fingers. His other hand is resting on Sam’s chest, above the blanket, and Sam loosens the edge of it to pull it over Dean’s hand and arm. He tugs Dean’s hand downwards, over the softness of his worn t-shirt, until Dean’s fingertips are touching the buckle of his belt.

“Sam,” Dean breathes, a warning. Sam just grins at him, a brief flash of white teeth, and unfastens his belt. Dean’s hand disobeys him and flicks open Sam’s button and unzips his fly, the sound of it covered by Dad’s quiet radio in the front seat.

Sam’s cock isn’t hard yet but it’s hot in Dean’s hand, and it swells and lengthens as he touches it. Sam squirms, rucking his jeans down a little to give Dean some more room, and Dean pulls his cock out of the slit in his boxers. His fist is obvious under the blanket, and it sends a thrill down his back at the lack of secrecy. He’s going to jerk Sam off in the backseat of the car while their Dad drives them across the country. Dean’s just glad the window is open.

Sam eases his other hand up the inseam of Dean’s pants and cups his balls through the denim. Dean cants his hips forwards, sliding down in his seat, struggling to control his breathing. Sam scrapes a fingernail across his balls, the sensation muted, and Dean’s dick twitches. He squeezes his fingers lightly and Sam muffles a gasp into Dean’s stomach. His breath is hot and soaks right through Dean’s skirt to his skin. Dean wants to kiss him, lick his mouth open and get inside, but he has to satisfy himself with tugging Sam’s hair until Sam looks up, and licking his lower lip while Sam watches.

Sam’s dick jerks, hardening further, and Dean gropes him slowly until Sam fills his fist, thick and hard and hot. The blanket rubs soft over his knuckles as he strokes Sam carefully, and Sam squirms in the seat. Sam wets his lips and pants open-mouthed up at Dean, gripping his thigh and his back, hips pushing up into the circle of Dean’s hand. Dean squeezes him again and is rewarded with a hitch of Sam’s hips and the slick slide of pre-come over his fingers.

Dean lets go of Sam’s hair and smooths his fingertips over Sam’s face, cast in shadow, following the lines he would know blind. He holds his other hand still and Sam rocks up into him, fucking his fist slowly, while Dean touches the corners of his eyes, the bow of his upper lip, the turn of his chin. Sam nips at Dean’s fingers, sucking them into his mouth, and Dean grinds up against the back of his head, stifling a groan. Sam’s mouth is perfection, sweet and hot, not to mention smart as hell, and Dean can imagine his cock in there the way Sam’s going to town on his middle finger.

The radio up front goes quiet for a second, and in that instant Dean hears Sam’s tiny gasp when he slides the tight circle of his hand up to swipe over his wet head. His heart stutters in his chest, needless fear rushing through him, but Sam bites down on his knuckles and the radio turns to a commercial, and everything is fine. He takes a slow breath, silent, and wiggles his fingers in Sam’s mouth until he lets go.

Sam uses the new freedom to mouth something at him, but Dean doesn’t quite catch it. He bends his head, folding himself down until his back aches, and Sam lifts his head a fraction.

“I wanna suck you so bad right now,” Sam breathes, giving his dick a squeeze through his pants, and at the same time Dean feels Sam’s cock jerk again in his hand.

“Shut up,” Dean whispers back, and covers Sam’s mouth for an instant with his own. They can’t do that, jesus no, but the phantom memory of his cock sliding deep into Sam’s throat is enough to set his heart pounding, pulse beating thick and heavy between his legs.

Sam pushes his hips up, catching Dean’s attention again. Dean jerks him slowly, silently, while Sam writhes on the seat. Sam’s eyes slide shut and Dean watches him focus on the sensation, the drag of Dean’s rough palm against his sensitive skin, the hard ridge of Dean’s cock against his ear. Sam presses his nose to Dean’s belly and inhales, breathing him in, and his cock pulses. Dean’s so hard, cock trapped in his jeans and getting no relief from Sam’s wandering, grasping hand.

Dean works him until he’s fucking Dean’s fist again, desperate, his face creased with the effort to stay silent. Dean can practically feel Sam’s orgasm approaching— the way Sam bites his lip, clenches his fingers; the way his dick hardens even further, swelling hugely; the way Dean’s fingers are slippery with his pre-come— and he dislodges Sam from his lap for a second to dig a handful of crumpled tissues out of his pocket. He pushes them into Sam’s hand and Sam gasps, shoves them against the head of his dick, his fingers brushing Dean’s. He comes silently, cock pulsing in Dean’s grip, his other hand tight in the back of Dean’s shirt and his mouth open in the o-face Dean knows so well. Sam shudders his way through it, chest heaving and hips pumping, until he goes suddenly limp, muffling his heavy breathing against Dean’s stomach.

Dean shifts up and rolls down the window, tosses the tissues out as quick as he can. He can smell Sam on his hand, and when Dad glances over his shoulder Dean shoves down the spike of adrenaline and mutters, “Just need some air.”

“You boys okay?” Dad asks, voice low, _don’t wake Sammy._

“Yup,” Dean says, feigning disinterest, his cock still throbbing. Sam’s recovered and is sneaking his fingers up and down the length of him, molding against his swollen head and rubbing at his balls. “You good?” He has to offer, he _has_ to.

“Fine,” Dad says gruffly, and turns back to the road. “Get some sleep.”

Dean doesn’t, not for a while.


End file.
